Blown Away
by Team Moriarty
Summary: I've been abused since I was born. Honestly, I don't know how I've survived this long. Now that a tornado's coming near, I can't wait for it to blow everything away. AH/AU. Angst.


_Hey, this is a one-shot.  
It's inspired by Carrie Underwood's: Blown Away.  
I love it.  
Here, Bella is abused by Charlie and they live in Oklahoma to get away from the past.  
A twister is headed towards them...  
_

* * *

_Dry lightning cracks across the skies_  
_Those storm clouds gather in her eyes_

Oklahoma was in for a disaster. I sat on the couch as I watched the weather man explain that a tornado was to hit Oklahoma. I've never seen a twister.

We moved to Oklahoma when I was three, to get away from the past that we left behind in Forks.

I quietly stared at the TV, gathering as much information as I could. Outside, there was lightning beaming through the clouds.

_Her daddy was a mean old mister_  
_Mama was an angel in the ground_

My father came into the room, staggering and having trouble stand on two feet. He held a whiskey bottle in his right hand, and looked at me full of hatred. I cringed.

I was in for it brutal beating.

Just like Oklahoma.

_The weather man called for a twister_  
_She prayed blow it down_

I miss my mother more than anything in the world.

She died giving birth to me.

I wish that I could have seen her once, and not just look at pictures to have some sense of her. I wanted to know what she was like. But of course, Charlie kept me secluded from our other relatives, I could never ask them what she was like. Charlie would never tell me.

He hated talking about my mother.

And sometimes, I feel like it's my fault. But I know it's not.

Charlie seems to think so. He beats me, swear at me, and sometimes breaks his whiskey bottles on my body and tells me, "You're the reason she's gone! It's all your fault, you fucking waste of space, you piece of shit!"

When I was seven, he took his cigarette and smothered it on my arm, dulling the cigarette. I have a scar on my shoulder to prove it.

I don't know why he just doesn't gives me up for adoption. Why can't he spare me the pain? Help him with his financial issues? He can spend his money on cigarettes and whiskey instead of me.

I averted my eyes to the screen, as the weather man said, "Brace yourselves."

That is exactly what I was going to do.

_There's not enough rain in Oklahoma_  
_To wash the sins out of that house_  
_There's not enough wind in Oklahoma_  
_To rip the nails out of the past_

Once, I tried to have a heart-to-heart conversation with my dad when he was sober.

He slapped me across the face.

I only wanted to talk about my education. But he didn't want to hear it.

I learned that Charlie will never care about me; that is something I had to realize for myself. That is something I will just have to live with.

Now that a twister was headed for Oklahoma, I hoped that my father will suffer.

Just like I had.

_Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away,_  
_Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away_  
_'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday_  
_Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,_  
_Blown away_

Suddenly, a gust of wind smacked the window panes open. The curtains were flailing everywhere. I hurried to close them.

"Keep those fucking windows closed!" My father's words slurred.

But even I knew that I couldn't keep them closed.

I watched as my father sat on the couch, his eyes slowly closing.

Then he was unconscious.

I escaped towards the cellar, seeking shelter.

At least I'll be safe.

_She heard those sirens screaming out_  
_Her daddy laid there passed out on the couch_  
_She locked herself in the cellar_  
_Listened to the screaming of the wind_  
_Some people called it taking shelter_  
_She called it sweet revenge_

I heard the rattling and harsh growls of the wind as it knocked over whatever was outside. The harsh sounds of the wind avoided the cellar's door, as I assumed the windows of the house were already opened.

Charlie is probably still asleep.

Good.

_Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away,_  
_Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away_  
_'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday_  
_Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,_  
_Blown away_

I heard the shatter of glass.

The whiskey bottle.

My father's passed out.

Good.

_There's not enough rain in Oklahoma_  
_To wash the sins out of that house_  
_There's not enough wind in Oklahoma_  
_To rip the nails out of the past_

_Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away (blown away)_  
_Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away (blown away)_  
_'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday (blown away)_  
_Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away,_

The wind finally subsided. I waited a few minutes until I thought it was safe.

Slowly, I unlocked the cellar door and climbed out.

I looked at my surroundings.

The house was deteriorated. Nothing but baseboards and clattered wood everywhere.

Where was my father?

I was surprised the cellar survived all this chaos. The neighbor's house didn't survive. Not even the nearby trees, the rocks, the other houses. The forest was torn down, wood chips and leaved everywhere. In the distance, I saw a small tornado making its way towards somewhere I couldn't recall anymore.

I turned my head towards where the living room should have been. Where I had last seen my father before I fled to shelter.

But that was gone, too.

So was the couch, the TV...

Everything.

I turned around, ever so carefully.

There was my father, laying on the ground next to a badly ripped-up couch.

I walked over to him and knelt. I was praying silently, a terrible prayer.

Slowly, I placed a hand over his heart; to see if it was beating.

Nothing. Not a pulse.

Good.

_Blown away, blown away, blown away, blown away, blown awa_y


End file.
